Kitchen Nightmares: Five Dinners at Freddys
by Smiss
Summary: Chef Gordon Ramsay is a master of culinary arts. Each week, he visits struggling businesses and helps them serve 5 star food. This week, Chef Ramsay has undergone is biggest challenge yet; Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Can Chef Ramsay save this sinking family business?


Tonight, on Kitchen Nightmares;

Gordon heads to Salt Lake City. He's off to visit Freddy Fazbear's Pizzaeria, a struggling family business.

"I-Its just so hard keeping the business afloat."

The catch? The restauraunt is run by its own animatronic robots.

"You call this focking pizza? ITS FOCKING RAW."

Can Gordon save this family diner, or will its malfunctioning animatronics end up in the junkyard? Stay tuned.  
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Gordon Ramesey walked down the cracked sidewalk. The slums of Salt Lake City were in decay, with walls covered in Graffiti, gang signs, or worse. Whole chunks of wall are missing, and no one dares to step outside at night, leaving Gordon alone with the ghosts of the ghetto.

"Gotta say, this is not the most opportune location." He said to the cameraman, trailing him. After walking for a bit longer, the two came to their destination; Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. No lights came from the inside, and the faded out electric sign barely emitted light. The sign showed Freddy himself, holding a pizza with one hand a bunch of tickets in the other.

Gordon grabbed the handle and pulled. The door didn't budge.

"What the fock?" He mumbled, pulling harder. "Did they forget we were coming?" The cameraman shrugged in return. "Don't focking shrug, just answer me. God."

"Yes chef."

"My god... GORDON. G-O-R-D-O-N. We aren't in the bloody kitchen yet."

"Yes che-Gordon."

"Thank you." Gordon spat. "This is.. This is just unprofessional." He put his hands on his hips, before grabbing a small pill from his pocket and plopping it in his mouth. "Gonna need alot of these, I can tell you that already."

"Have you tried the other door?"

"Yes I've tried the other door. What do I look like, a muppet?"

"No chef." The cameraman responded. Gordon put his hands on his face, before waving off the word choice. "Fock it. Lets head around back." Gordon briskly power walked to the back entrance, his face already red in frustration. The back door was illuminated by one small light, slightly flickering.

"Hang on a minute." Gordon said. He bent down near the door. The concrete was stained with a thick red substance. He put his finger in it, then sniffed it. "Marinara sauce. And its focking frozen, I can tell from the consistency." He turned back to the camera. "You brought more anger pills right?" The cameraman nodded quickly. "Good, hate to go nutter just yet." He stood up, and then went inside.  
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"'ello?" Gordon called out. The back door led to the kitchen, which was currently empty. The kitchen was in disarray, pots and pans littered the floor, and a stove was still on. A moldy pizza lay on the kitchen table, untouched. Gordon looked around in disgust. "What the fock is this..." He picked up a slice of pizza. The cheese slipped off, leaving a moldy and gross looking tomato sauce under it.

"Jesus Christ." He said, putting a hand on his forehead. "Pill me. Now." The camera guy tossed one of the pills towards the chief. "Don't get skimpy, gonna need two for this." Gordon downed the two pills and resumed his observation. "There's... there's a clown mask on the wall, and the orders are on the floor... my god do I have to go any further? Can't I just call the CDC?" Gordon pleaded. The camera guy shook his head.

"Bollocks to to this. Lets get the fock out of here." Gordon pushed through the kitchen doors and stormed into the main area. "WHO THE FOCK IS THE OWNER OF THIS TRAVESTY?!" Suddenly, a loud stomping sound came from the stage. Freddy Fazbear stared at the chief. "Are you Freddy? Come here." Freddy didn't move. "GIT YER ASS OVER 'ERE RIGHT NOW."

Freddy stomped towards the chief. The two were face to face, with Freddy a good foot taller than Gordon. He opened his mouth, and prepared to scream.

"EEEEEEEEE-"

Gordon slapped the robot across the face. The surprising amount of strength from the chief left Freddy stunned. He put his hand to his face. "O-Owww."

"You shut the fock up. Get over here." Gordon dragged the hulking machine into the kitchen. "What. the. FOCK. is this?"

"I-its our kitchen Mr. Ram-"

"Wrong. Its a fucking disgrace! And don't call me 'Mr. Ramsey', we're not two fags focking each other o'er a table. From now on, its CHEF."

"Y-Yes chef!"

"Look at you, cowering like I'm pinching yer prick. Explain why," Chef pointed at the kitchen, "The pans are on the floor, there's random objects that have no business in the kitchen like this clown mask," Ramsay picked the smiling pink clown mask by one of the back straps, then hurled it against the wall, "and why there is FOCKING MOLD IN YOUR KITCHEN."

"Chef, I-I'm not the cook." Freddy stammered, looking away. "That would be Ch-chica."

"No, you're just the focking OWNER OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT. IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY TO MAKE SURE TRASH LIKE THIS," Ramsay grabbed the moldy slice and pushed it into the bears face. "DOESN'T GO OUT. YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

"Y-yes chef..."

"WHAT ARE YOU, A FOCKING NINNY? ANSWER LIKE A MAN." Gordon slapped the bear with the pizza, leaving pizza sauce over the plastic molding.

"YES CHEF!"

"GOOD. FOCKING FANTASTIC." Gordon took a breath, quickly popped three pills, then wiped his brow. "Tomorrow. I am coming here, and I will eat your food. You will NOT," Gordon emphasised, "Tell your chef of my coming. You understand?"

"Yes chef." Freddy Fazbear, a once prideful and proud bear animatronic, was reduced to sniffing digitalized tears like a small schoolboy who scraped his knee after a cricket game. Gordon sighed, then grabbed the towel from his front pocket, and wiped the sauce from the bears face.

"Listen. I'm not gonna lie to you, this is gonna be hard. Its gonna be hell for the next couple of weeks, and you're going to hate me. But my methods work. I'm not gonna try and make this place some fancy 5 star dinner place for some mingers and their git trophy wives to go on about, I'm going to make this place the best pizzeria in town. You get that?"

Freddy nodded, adjusting his top hat that had begun to slide off.

"Alright. When I get here tomorrow, I want this place to be cleaned. Not expecting a 100% sanitation grade, but for gods sake at least get rid of that blasted pizza." Gordon threw the slice he had in the nearby trash can. "4:00 PM. I'll come for a late lunch. That should give you plenty of time to tidy up a bit." Freddy nodded again.

"I'll see you tomorrow then." Gordon gave the bear a small pat on the shoulder, before walking out of the kitchen. The camera guy quickly followed.  
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"I feel bad for the bear ya know? He doesn't seem like that much of a twit or anything like that. He's adorable. He's a bloody children's attraction, of course the damn thing's lovable." Ramsay said to the camera. "But he's definitely got to shape up if things are gonna improve. He needs to take responsibility." The camera guy said nothing back, silently nodding at Gordon's words.

"Tomorrow's gonna be one hell of a day."  
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COMING UP ON KITCHEN NIGHTMARES;

Gordon tries the chef's new take on children's entertainment food.

"What the bloody 'ell is this?" And ends up in a heated argument with the cook.

"You think children like this shite?"

"Excuse me Mistah Ramsay, but I know the kids love my pizza!"

"You're delusional!"

"I wouldn't expect some fancy pants English jerk to know what good pizza tastes loike!"

Can Gordon salvage this failing restaurant?

"No no NO! THE DOUGH IS FOCKING BURNT!"  
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End file.
